Just Another Day in Paradise
by Luci-I'mHome
Summary: You find a letter hidden in the drawers of a dresser in a rundown motel room. It's addressed "To whomever wants to read". You open it and discover it is a day in the life of a man named Sam WInchester...


My name is Sam Winchester, I'm from Lawrence, Kansas. I can't say I've ever had a normal life. A demon killed my mom when I was just six months old and set fire to our house. My older brother, Dean, was four at the time of her death. Sadly, he remembers everything. Since that day, my dad, Dean, and I have been on the road killing the monsters that most people think are just bedtime stories and horror story ideas.

I left for college around 19 and got accepted into Stanford, leaving the life I had lived with Dean and my dad behind me. I met a girl named Jessica there and we hit it off, she was my everything. At the age of 22, Jessica was killed the same way my mother was, by exactly the same demon. I left with Dean and started up the very life I thought I had left for good.

I can't even count how many years have gone by since then. Too many if you ask me. But throughout all of those years I can't say I hate how much lost time I have made up with my brother. Yeah sure, sleeping in the same motel room together, day in and day out for many years gets tiring and frustrating, but that's beside the point.

We've met so many different people, and creatures, like Jo, Ellen, and Bobby, who are all hunters like us. I swear Jo had a crush on Dean, but she was too hardheaded to say anything. I don't think Dean would have dated her anyways, she was more like a younger sister to us than anything. We had a stepbrother named Adam, who sadly was killed, but how, is another story. Our friend Cas is another interesting person we have met along the way, once again, another long story. See, his full name is Castiel, he's an angel, yes, you read that right, an actual angel. And we've met many of his siblings who have sacrificed themselves for our wellbeing. Gabriel, Balthazar, Samandriel, and many others, too many to name! Now don't get me wrong, I feel honoured to have angels die for us, but sometimes I just wish they'd let us live our lives, if we die, we die, you know?

Well I think that's enough back story for you, so I'm just going to get on with it. This is about a simple hunt that we did recently. Just to give you a little sneak peek into our lives. So you don't get any ideas about joining this life too.

"So where are we going next Sammy?" Dean asked. He flipped through the channels listlessly, sipping on cheap beer in the dingy, old motel room we had rented for the night.

"There has been a series of questionable killings in a so called 'haunted' asylum in Cumberland, Rhode Island." I got up from my place in front of my laptop and stretched my giant body, hands grazing the roof as they were raised over my head. Looking over at the alarm clock on the bed side table, I realized I had been sitting for five hours straight. Walking over to the mini fridge that was just barely working, I grabbed a beer myself and sat on the adjacent bed from the one Dean was sitting on.

Dean grinned, his hazel eyes shining, making the subtle freckles that dusted his nose stand out. "Sounds like our kind of thing. I say we catch a few hours of sleep then head out."

I nodded and flopped onto the bed. While sitting at the computer, I didn't notice how tired I was. Now, just lying there, I realized just how little sleep I had gotten in the past few days. The hunt before had been more than originally been planned. If it hadn't been mutually decided that a witch alone couldn't have done the abductions, we would have never been prepared for the demon helping.

Glancing around the room casually, I noticed that Dean had dosed off, the TV long forgotten. I couldn't help but smile. It had been a hard few days for both of us.

I decided to go to sleep even though I wasn't tired, although I could nap in the car while Dean drove if I needed to. I reached over and grabbed the remote that was loosely being held on to and turned off the rerun of _Doctor Sexy M.D._ that had been left on. Curling myself up under the thin and well used blanket, I drifted off into as good of a sleep that one could in a $35 dollar a night motel.

Morning came too fast and we were on the road quickly, ACDC, Aerosmith and many other classic rock bands blasted through the speakers of the old, black, '67 Chevy Impala that had been passed on to Dean from our dad. Casually talking about nothing and everything, we made our way to Cumberland at a fast pace, Dean's lead foot pushing the limits of his baby as we tore up the road.

Making a 20 hour trip in 12, we pulled into another cheap, run-down motel. My brother hauled his duffle bag in and headed directly to the shower. I grabbed the notepad that had been carelessly thrown on the table and wrote:

_ "Gone to the library,_

_ call me if you need me._

_ Sam." _

I wrote on the paper with a pen I found in a broken drawer. I grabbed the keys that had been carelessly thrown upon a side table and headed to the library.

Pulling up to the library, I found a stall and threw the car in park. Walking up to the front desk I approached the sunny, young woman behind it. She looked up at me and gave me a bright smile, flipping her long, wheat coloured hair as she stared up at me expectantly, batting her big sapphire eyes.

Quickly coming up with a believable lie, I cleared my throat and gave my most charming smile. "Excuse me miss, I understand if it is against what you can do, but I'm a student doing a paper on the Haunted Hill Insane Asylum and I was wondering if I could look over any documents you may have. Maybe on any of the patients, I really want a great grade on it."

She smiled sweetly and nodded. "Well of course you can darling! Anything to help you out! That's what I'm here for after all!" She got up with a bounce and showed me to the back of the library, It was darker than the rest of the building, a few lights were burnt out, others flickering. She pulled out a big dusty box, with CONFIDENTAL RECORDS written in sloppy handwriting. "Here you go, if you need help with anything else, don't be shy to ask." She winked and walked off back to the front desk.

I pushed my hair behind my ears and got to work.

After a couple hours of research, I came across some newspaper clippings stating that an apparition of a young woman would walk the halls. Some said that witnesses heard her wailing for someone to give her back her child. All stories testified that she had striking long, dark hair and dark eyes, was about average height and left a trail of blood droplets in her wake. Every year in October, at least one body a week was found, killed the same way she was.

My cell phone rang, fishing it out of my pocket, I answered it.

"Hello?"

_"Hey little bro! How is the research going, got anything yet?"_

"Yeah actually, A girl on record here, Violet Erickson, she is the most well known patient of the institute. Witnesses say that it's her ghost that is haunting the halls and doing the murders. I also read up on the victims, there are common features between every one of them."

_"Alright, what are they?"_

"Tall, well built men, in their early to mid-thirties with brown hair. We gotta be careful Dean, we both fit that profile."

_"Any reason why she targets people with that description?"_

"Nah, I haven't gotten anything yet."

_"Well finish up there and we'll go to the site. See what else we can dig up from the police."_

"Alright, I'll be back in a bit. Bye."

_"Yep."_

I ended the call and continued my research. After getting more of an idea on how to deal with this, I placed all of the papers back neatly, exactly as I had found them, and placed the box back. As I walked past the front desk I flashed a smile and a quick thank you to the librarian.

I got back to the motel room and changed into a suit. I grabbed my fake FBI badge and followed Dean out the door, who was adorned in the same attire.

We approached the crime scene, flashing our "badges" at the officer guarding the scene; we ducked under the police tape and made our way behind the building to the victim's location.

We kept the badges out and flipped up our hands for a short while for the officers there and Dean spoke up. "Agent Cooper and Ryley, FBI, you mind telling us what happened?" The men standing there fell for the fake names and counterfeit badges; their expressions going from apathetic to irate.

"What business do the 'feds have here?"

"We'll be asking the questions" I spoke up.

"Well, our victim here suffered some bruising and a few scratches during the attack, CoD is a deep cut to the throat that caused him to suffocate."

"And the report said that you believe a ghost did it?"

"Well yeah, Violet always kills around this time of year. Bein' the time of her death and all."

Dean and I gave each other quick sideways glances. "And how exactly did she die?" Dean inquired.

"Well by bein' brutally beaten, then having her throat cut of course! That's how we know who did it; all the victims have the same death." The one officer said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Alright, that will be all gentlemen. Thank you for your time." We departed from the scene.

It was a nice, warm day out. The sun shining with no clouds to cover it. Sparrows chirped from a big, old oak tree that half-hung over the iron gate.

We walked back around to the front and walked in through the entrance. Surprisingly, no one else was in the building. Dean pulled out his homemade EMF reader he had created with a busted up Walkman years ago. I pulled out the one I had picked up off a fellow hunter last year and we both searched the area.

"You go through all the doors on the right down this hallway. I go left?" My brother's voice queried from behind me.

"Yeah, sure."

Taking my first right down the hallway, I didn't come to a door, just an open room. It looked to be some sort of common room, a place where the patients could converse with other patients and nurses. There were no signs of any kind of redecoration, the walls were void of colour and water damage could be observed from the stains dripping down from the window sills. There were a few old couches layered with at least an inch of dust, many ripped and faded with springs and nails sticking out haphazardly. The windows that looked out onto a courtyard were barred by what looked like iron. They were so rusted at the top and bottom from the water damage that they could probably be pulled off with enough force.

Broken wooden benches that were in the yard were situated in a place that could have been a nice, grassy at one time. A concrete slab took up about a quarter of the area, a basketball hoop still barely standing on either sides of the slab.

The EMF reader never made any indication to anything abnormal going on while I made my way through the rooms. As I was walking out of the last room, Dean was walking out of his.

"Get anything?" I asked, he looked up at me and shook his head.

"Nope, you?"

"Nah."

"Alright, well I say we ditch this place until midnight, and get some food!"

I laughed, Dean's brain was connected straight to his stomach. I nodded, "yeah, sounds like a plan."

Dean and I hit up a burger joint and had something to eat, I told him what I had found out about Violet Erickson and the victims. Violet had had a nurse assigned to her and her alone, because she was such a severe case, named Nathaniel Persily, or for short, Nate. After her death, he had been arrested for her murder. All of the victims fit his physical description, which means these were purely revenge murders. Any man who was lured into the old asylum was killed for simply looking like the man who had ended her life.

After we ate we decided a quick nap wasn't too bad of an idea. We headed back to the motel, changed into our normal clothes, and fell asleep.

"Wakey, wakey Sammy!" I was shaken awake by Dean a few hours later. It was dark outside, but I could see the trunk of the Impala propped up, which meant Dean had packed without me. "Come on, car's all pack and ready to go!"

I got up sluggishly, why had we needed to go that instant? Couldn't Dean have let me at least drink a cup of coffee first? Apparently not.

We parked the car a block down the road among others to lower suspicion. Grabbing what we needed, we hopped the iron fence with our weapons and headed on inside.

"Most of the deaths occurred in the common room, which was the first room I checked. So I'll stay there."

"Are you suggesting we split up? No, no, no, Sam. That is not happening."

"Dean, who is going to salt and burn the body to make sure she doesn't come back?"

Dean sighed and dropped his head. "You be careful. Make a salt ring around you, don't you step out of it for a second. Not even to take a leak, you hear me?"

I couldn't hide the small smile that spread upon my face. "You worry too much. Of course I'll be careful."

So with that we parted ways, I headed in the building and Dean briskly made his way to the small, chained-off graveyard.

I took the box of salt, did as Dean had told me to do, and made a circle big enough so I could comfortably fit into it. I set the box in the circle and pulled the sawed off shotgun filled with rock salt bullets and sat down.

For what felt like forever, nothing happened. Little creaks and groans made my head turn the odd time, but nothing major. That was until, a giant breeze came through and, unknowingly to me, broke the circle.

The next thing I knew I was thrown against one of the dirty couches by an unknown force. My face was scraped against the broken springs and I winced.

_"You killed me Nate. Now you get to see how I felt as the light left my eyes. How it feels to suffocate from drowning in your own blood."_

I turned around to see an apparition that would fit the description every newspaper clipping had told me. Her expression was ice as she held up a shard of glass.

"_Oh what was it that you said to me right before? Hmm, yes… I believe it was, 'don't worry, I'm only here to help you." _

I was shoved against the couch again, the springs and nails digging in to the back of my neck this time. My gun was still in the circle, which was much too far away for me to even think about reaching. Looking up, I saw the bars I had examined during my first visit, reaching up, I tried to grab one.

My hand was pinned down just as I had almost grabbed a hold on the closest one to my body.

"_There will be none of that my dear Nathaniel. Now, now, just relax."_

She crept towards me at an agonizing pace. Leaning down, she set the edge of the glass to the left side of my neck. Slowly sliding it gently across to the right, making just the skin break, nothing major, but there was still blood. She smiled wickedly.

"_Now here's the fun part!" _She hissed, and dug the piece into my chest, right where my heart was.

I panicked. This wasn't how she had killed the other men. What made me so different? I flailed as much as I could, which wasn't much, and tried to yell for Dean. All that came out was a gurgle and blood that bubbled up from my throat and dribbled down my chin.

My vision blurred and went dark around the edges as she dug it in deeper. I could hear the blood rushing through my head, but instead of being annoying, it was soothing… so soothing. I could feel my body start to relax as the ghost of Violet Erickson burst into flames. Dean had found her grave.

I vaguely heard heavy, rapid footfalls as my body slumped on the ground. I was picked up by the shoulders and shaken lightly. That's the last I remember before passing out.

The first thing to come back was my hearing. There was a TV on, I could hear the soft sound of vehicles passingand there was someone else in the room with me.

I must have moved or made a noise because the person was right next to me in a second flat.

"Sam? You awake buddy?"

I tried to open my eyes. No luck. I tried my luck with my voice, which only sort of worked. "Water" I tried. The person must have understood because I had a glass pressed up to my lips a short while later. I took a sip and my throat and mouth felt better.

Opening my eyes again was an easier task the second time. My vision slowly came into focus and as it did, the worried face of my brother did too. His eyebrows were furrowed into a frown, his hazel eyes showing the pain I must have caused him. We weren't able to be admitted into a hospital due to our names being needed. And if we needed to leave quickly, we didn't want a search party looking for us. Leaving a trail of where we had been was bad for us if anyone wanted to look into our whereabouts and find us.

Getting up and grabbing a slice of pizza from a box on the desk in the hotel room, Dean came and sat beside me in the chair he had pulled up beside my bed. "Hey there! Welcome back bro. She sure kicked the crap out of you hey?"

I grunted in response.

"Alright, well I got a call and we have another case. When you feel up to it we'll hit the road. But don't rush 'kay?"

I nodded and fell back asleep.

Not a few hours later I had convinced Dean I was better and we were back on the road; on our way to the next town, and another town after that.

So this is my life, well, _our_ life; I guess one can never get used to it. But I mean, as long as Dean and I have each other and the few friends we have, we don't exactly need a normal life. This _is_ our normal. It's all we've ever known.

My name is Sam Winchester. I'm from Lawrence, Kansas, and I hope that thanks to this, you will never, ever, _ever, _get involved in this lifestyle.


End file.
